Eternal Penitence
by Athenyx
Summary: Cathy and Heathcliff are supernatural beings - Cat and Heath. A guardian angel and a fallen angel. Soul mates doomed to repeat their tragic love story throughout time. Imprisoned both bodily and psychologically. Or are they? Complete in five short flash-fiction parts. (Influenced in part by Dante's Inferno and Becca Fitzpatrick's Hush Hush).
1. Chapter 1 - Discovery

It had been five weeks. It was unusual for him to notice the passing of time at all, but notice he did. Five weeks of watching, and willing her to come to him. Five weeks shrouded in the chilly Autumnal fog. Five weeks perched on this lichen infested headstone, with the replica of his kin casting shadows on his face.

It was the candlelight that had given her away. She'd stood partially hidden, a silhouette with blurred edges, watching over her charge with an aura of peace and a loving smile. She was incandescent. She was perfectly _good_. He had to have her. He yearned to destroy her.

Heath sighed. He needed to stop this, forget her and seek other amusement. But something led him back here every night, an invisible pull of the most curious kind. Leaving before sunrise was becoming excruciating, but he had no choice. Daylight wasn't the realm of his kind. Life without love, life without light – that was the punishment.

He threw one last look at the upstairs window of the old farmhouse. The dawn was approaching quickly and the mortal lay sleeping. Peaceful and protected. He took one step towards the moors, and then froze. The air hummed with fierce energy.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Her high voice cut through the mist surrounding him. Electric. Bittersweet. He turned and beheld her face. Searching it for fear, for anger. She smiled back benignly.

"The sun hasn't risen yet," she hinted.

He continued to swallow her with his eyes. Feasting on her innocence. Her beauty. Sunshine hair bound in long braids, glacier blue orbs sunken in a pure, unmarked face. Then he casually leaned back against the headstone, the corners of his lips curling in the mockery of a smile.

"Cat, tell me, do you have claws?"

Her elegant brow twisted in confusion. He watched her, the thrill of the hunt thrumming in his veins. He waited for her to back away. His fingers itched to pull at the wings she would extend in her haste. In her flight.

Then she giggled. The sound was pure light reflecting off his skin. It seeped through to his veins, carving a path to his still heart. The innate purity made him draw in a breath, catching it in his throat. His dark eyes reflected the night as he pierced her with his gaze.

"Why do you watch me?" she asked, curiosity made her eyes glow.

Heath shook his head to clear his thoughts. He pulled himself up to his full height, towering over her. A predator once more. She shifted her stance towards him, craning her neck back. Beckoning.

"Did no one ever teach you not to talk to strangers?" he wryly asked.

She wrinkled her nose at his words. Suddenly, the air rippled with her annoyance. She quirked a brow at him. His tongue darted out to taste her emotions, anticipation curling in the pit of his stomach. Then she smiled, timidity clinging to her skin.

"We're not strangers, you and I. We're two sides of the same coin," she quietly said.

His heart audibly thumped; the sound resonating in his chest. His lips curved voluntarily this time. She was amusing, he'd give her that.

_Stop playing with your food, darling. _Words from a memory drifted through his skull. Long ago buried, almost forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2 - Addiction

An insurmountable period of time had passed but her love had only grown deeper. Stronger. He was so darkly handsome she hardly knew how to resist anymore. She'd watched him, watching her, for so long. He'd been for her a guardian, as she was to the mortal. Now they had been meeting in secret for an age and temptation was an ever present fiend.

"You look sad my kitty Cat," he jested, his back once again propped upon the marker of some poor soul's resting place.

She glanced at his striking face. His dark hair caressed his forehead and his eyes shone like the pits of Hades. A strong chin was tilted proudly skyward, and his strong lips were pulled into an ever present smirk. He was all sharp angles to her soft edges. He was one of the fallen, but he owned her heart. It was impossible. It was forbidden. It was too late.

Winter lent the graveyard a crystallised glow – pure white blending with night and creating mutable greys and browns. She slowly ran her finger through the frost coating the stone angel's outstretched hand. Heath seemed to wake with a jolt at her action.

"Come home with me," he demanded, his midnight eyes searing through her. He grasped her elbow and for once she offered no resistance. This seemed to shock him, for he looked down at his hand, his expression unreadable. Denying him seemed wrong somehow – her logic was twisting and morphing.

"Yes," she said simply, a nervous smile twitching her lips.

He turned away from her, indecision temporarily drifting across his gaze. Then he seemed to come around, shifting his body back and spearing her with his eyes once more. His other hand fiercely gripped her chin and he pushed her back against the neighbouring tomb, grass crunching beneath their feet.

"You're mine," he hoarsely whispered, before he brought his lips down upon hers with so much heat she felt her bones dissolve into nothing. One strong arm around her waist was all that kept her standing.

Kissing Heath was like swimming against a rip tide – capitulation meant survival, resistance signalled drowning. Exposure to his temperament had lent her tenacity she was previously lacking. Her arms curled their way around his torso, pulling at fabric, seeking skin on skin contact.

Heath savagely pulled his fingers through her hair before locking her wrists together behind her back. Restraining her, taunting her. She retaliated with a nip against the rough skin of his throat, the vibration of his groan reverberating against her lips.

"Enough," he forcefully ground out. He was heaving in unnecessary breaths, his rib cage grinding against hers in the close confinement. He buried his face against her neck and she smiled into the night.

Cat knew why he had fallen. Humans were a sore temptation and some lacked the will power to deny themselves. He was sexually deviant, but he was denying himself now, and she couldn't understand it. The fallen weren't supposed to care and she wasn't supposed to be tempted.

He started to lead her away, his fingers securely interlocking with hers. Then a terrified scream startled her back to reality. She knew before she turned that it was coming from the upstairs bedroom of the old farmhouse. Breaking free from his hold, she burst into a run – panic seizing her throat and worry stinging her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3 - Intensity

Heath had never known such blind rage as this. It filled him. Consumed him. Leaking out in uncontrollable spasms. Cat was standing in the mortal's bedroom now – her back stiff and placed towards him. Her neck was slanted away, as if listening to something he could no longer hear. He curled his fingers into his palms, nails biting flesh. Eyes hardening. Teeth grinding.

_Raguel_. He was responsible for this. Hate bubbled in his mouth and he forced himself to spin away. Not wanting his rage to shine on her. Not wanting to blind her as he was blinded. She would know he was angry, she would feel it. It would burn her as it burned him. He almost smiled at the thought.

Raguel had ripped away his wings. Torn them from his skin. Left bloody stumps in their place and torched the feathers. He had watched as they turned from pure white, to grey and then blackened into dust. Remorse for their loss churning in his stomach, mingling with the forks of human pain. That had been a century ago. A century was not long enough for the hate to simmer down.

He had only wanted her to choose him. To choose her love for him over the charge. It was almost a game, yet he never lost games. She had fled back to the mortal to find her in the comforting arms of Raguel. Sanctimonious keeper of the peace. Persecutor of transgressed luminaries. _His_ vengeance on those who veered from the chosen path.

"I cannot be with you," she had said. Ignoring all attempts he made to speak to her. Lips remaining firmly closed.

Cat refused to leave the room. She stood watch night and day. She slid her eyes over him as though he was no longer there. Every sweep tickled his skin and made his chest throb. He could hardly stand to stay there. The hours trickled by painfully. If he thought leaving before was hard, it was nothing compared to this.

The string that bound them had tightened over time and now it was taught with tension. When she shifted, he moved. When he moved, she stiffened. They could feel each other, he knew it. Heath did not understand this feeling. Desire he understood. Passion. Power. Hate. Anger. He was familiar with them all. This was new. This was worse. This was so beautiful it hurt.

He knew what he needed to do. The mortal had to go. Cat was his. She belonged in his arms and he in hers. He would be careful. Raguel would know nothing of his plans until it was too late, and Cat would be fallen in her neglect. Her pain would be his pain. They would be fallen together. Tragically, deliciously fallen.

She would not hesitate to be with him. Her purity would be burned from her. He would lick away her wounds until she felt nothing but him. His heart fluttered and his body buzzed with anticipation. He would have his Cat, and their heaven would be neither half alive nor dead. They would breathe for each other. It would be the only glory they would ever know. He was determined to make her his. He was determined to make her fall.


	4. Chapter 4 - Consequences

The small room was in shadows; lit only by a small lamp tumbled to the floor. Cat stared at the crumpled body in dismay. He had tricked her and now her heart was shattering into icy splinters, digging away at her insides, melting her warmth. Heath stood over her, blood soaking into his skin, dark eyes haunted but unrepentant. The mortal was dead. Raguel would be here soon, exacting the punishment she deserved. And still she loved Heath.

"You have ruined me," she sobbed. Her heart soaring and crumpling at the thought of being like him. Of being his forever. Forever damned.

Heath gripped her arms, holding her steady and smearing blackening red on to her fair skin. "It will only hurt for a few seconds beautiful, and then we can be together," he said. His eyes looked worried, but his self-satisfied smirk was back in place and it angered her.

She pushed his arms away, determined to not weaken at the relief she felt from his touch. Pretending to ignore him had planted seeds of bitterness that refused to budge. She ached to tear at his clothes. She ached to tear at his skin and make him hurt like she was hurting.

A blinding fire erupted around them and she shielded her eyes, tumbling back against the far wall. Sulphur engulfed her nostrils and she recoiled. Her back flared with pain and she called out to Heath, knowing he could not help her, knowing this was what he wanted. She wanted it too, but not like this. Never like this. It crawled into her bones and ignited her blood. Tears trailed down her cheeks and pooled in the hollows beneath her throat.

White spots entered her vision and she scrunched her lids together tighter. The smell of burning feathers caused her to gag. She was a mess, a crumpled foetal form snivelling on the floor, and she didn't have the strength to care. Suddenly, Heath was there, his cool hands stroking skin, bringing her back from the brink. Then he was gone, pulled back by another set of strong arms.

She opened her eyes to stare around her, furrowing her brows at this new development. Raguel stood over them both, glorious wings extended, his cerulean eyes hard and unforgiving. He was more beautiful than any painting or sculpture could convey, and his beauty was his might.

"You are both found guilty of sins against Our Father. One of you has fallen today, one of you a century ago. But both must be punished and it is my sacred duty. Heath, I banish you to the first circle of hell. There you shall remain until Lucifer sees fit to punish you further. So it is said, so let it be." Raguel's voice thundered through the small room and Cat winced.

Terror filled her chest as she reached out for Heath and he met her gaze with anger and pain and love, so much love, pulling her apart at the seams. Then he was gone, swallowed up by the earth as if he had never been. Raguel turned towards her, almost slipping into pity at the sight of her pathetic form, then he too was gone. A zip of light flying to the Heavens, leaving her both hollow and swollen with feeling.


	5. Chapter 5 - Eternity

Time had even less meaning here, but still he counted. One day. Two. Three. Still no Cat. The thought of never seeing her again pulsed through his body, sharp and clear. He had not counted on getting punished himself. Damn Raguel. He still remembered her face. The agony. The fear. The blame. He'd done this to her. Now she would have to be as ruthless as him if there was to be hope.

Heath had roamed the Asphodel Meadows for hours at first. Pushing against the boundaries between worlds. Ignoring the leached souls that floated past. Empty. Ruined. Kicking at the white six-pointed stars that weaved around his restless legs. Then he'd started searching the caves, carefully avoiding the denizens of hell. He would not drink from the Lethe and lose who he was. Cat needed him.

They were dank and dirt filled. Bland spots on an even blander landscape. He found others hiding there – escaping the numbness. At night the sky over-head bled from lilac to grey to charcoal and back again. It was torturously peaceful.

A flash of light filled his vision and he knew another angel had fallen. Leaping to his feet, Heath searched the plain for spots of colour. Time here sucked the life out of everything. There, in the distance, appearing on the field of self-harming sin, he saw spun gold hair. And a hand leading the new soul to the Lethe.

Springing into action, Heath raced across the meadows. His heart thundering in his ears. She had hurt herself to be with him. Happiness and self-hate joined the web of emotions she spun. "Cat," he called, "Don't do it, whatever you do don't drink!"

She turned towards his voice, her haunted eyes sparking to life at the sight of him. She tried to pull her elbow from the denizen's firm grasp but he was too strong. Worry filled her face and Heath surged onwards. She was too close to the river already. "Heath," she cried, "Heath, I can't get free!"

Time seemed to stop still as the denizen sprouted slick oil black wings and carried her away into the air. He hovered low over the Lethe, before letting his burden go in the middle of the pearly stream. Seconds later Heath reached the banks of the river and ran straight in. Heedless of all consequences. Desperate. Forgetting.

As he reached Cat's side she struggled to stand. Drenched from head to toe she accepted his help. They waded to the shore and he pulled her into his arms. Clinging to her damp skin. Trying to calm down. He forcefully gripped her chin and tilted her face up to his. Her eyes looked confused but she still seemed to welcome him. He kissed her then, unable to help himself. Let her try and forget this.

She returned the kiss. Tasting of salt and honey and bitter flowers. He swallowed down his panic. Suddenly his memories clouded. He pulled back and stared at the woman before him. She was beautiful. Hauntingly fragile. Delicately strong. She gazed at him with a lover's fervour and he smiled back.

"I am Heath," she said.

"And I am Cat," he replied.


End file.
